


The End of the Line

by chaostheoryy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brief mention of gunshot wound, Canon-Typical Violence, Coma, Flashbacks, Injured Steve, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7116610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaostheoryy/pseuds/chaostheoryy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a routine mission with the Howling Commandos, Steve is shot down and rushed to the hospital where doctors inform Bucky that he has fallen into a coma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of the Line

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another prompt fill for @imsherwatchingyou on Tumblr. Prompt: Stucky prompt: Steve & Bucky are in the middle of battle when Steve gets hurt. They are rushed to the hospital when the battle is over and Steve falls in a coma. Cue the angst and Bucky pouring out his feelings from childhood to now as he waits for his best friend and hopefully lover to wake up. After falling asleep at the side of Steve's bed Bucky wakes up to someone stroking his hair. Steve heard everything and tells Bucky that he feels the same
> 
> Note: I am not a historical expert so trust me when I tell you that there may be some inaccuracies regarding Allied camp placements and medical technologies. Just enjoy the angst.

Wars last forever. Battles are fought in an instant. And for Bucky Barnes this battle happened in the blink of an eye.

It was a routine mission for the Howling Commandos. Commandeer a German supply truck en route to the western front and redirect it to the severely under supplied Allied camp outside of Büderich. Bucky was to stake out in one of the trees along the main road and take out the driver with his rifle while the remainder of the team, including Steve, were to wait in the foliage and ambush the vehicle once it was out of commission.

It should have been simple. All their missions were. But something went wrong.

Bucky took the driver without a problem, sending the entire car crashing into a pine a few meters down the road. From his place in the tree, Bucky could hear them shouting, screaming at one another in attempt to pinpoint the location of the sharpshooter. The commanding officer of the group hesitantly peeked his head out of the back of the truck. When no shots were fired at him, he ordered his men out of the truck to form a defensive barrier around the vehicle while he dealt with the body of their fallen comrade.

It was then that Dugan initiated his distraction. A hand grenade blasted one of the pines over, the entire tree falling just behind the truck where all of the German soldiers were standing with guns at the ready. Alarmed by the explosion and fallen tree, they looked to the South in preparation for an attack. To their dismay, however, the attack they were prepared to counter came from the North.

Bucky watched as Steve leapt on top of the truck and flung his shield at the unsuspecting soldiers. The vibranium weapon took out two of the soldiers with ease before landing back in Steve's hand. From the tree, Bucky fired, sending one of the older Germans crumbling to the ground with a bullet wound to shoulder that left him screaming in agony. Jones and Denrier jumped in too, each of them taking down a man with precision shots to their opponent's kneecaps.

Within no time, all of the soldiers, aside from the driver, were detained and thrown into the back of the truck to be taken to the POW camp in Büderich with the supplies. Satisfied that the mission was a success, Bucky prepared to climb out of the tree. That's when it happened.

A single shot rang out, echoing through the trees. Bucky spun his head around and instantaneously the world began to move in slow motion as he realized what was happening. His stomach dropped as he watched Steve collapse to the ground, his shield falling into the snow beside him as blood began to ooze down his temple. A sharpshooter had gotten him.

"STEEEEVVVEEE!" Bucky screamed as he dropped to the ground, nearly breaking his legs in the process. He bolted across the road, dropping to his knees by Steve's head. Up close he could see the bullet wound on his forehead which was oozing thick wads of blood. The damn bullet had gone right through his helmet and lodged itself in Steve's skull. Bucky immediately tore off the sleeve of his shirt and wrapped it around the captain's head to stop the bleeding. Steve was completely unconscious but, fortunately Bucky could still detect a heartbeat

"Start the truck," he shouted to his comrades, "We need to get him to a doctor!"

Without any questions or hesitation, the Commandos helped Bucky load Steve into the back of the truck where the half dozen German soldiers were tied up for transport. Bucky, Dugan, and Dernier climbed in the back to make sure nothing went wrong on the way to the nearby base. The entire ride Bucky sat with Steve, holding his head and praying that he would be okay. He knew the chances of survival were low. A bullet in the head was hard to come back from. But maybe, just maybe, that serum Steve had flowing through his veins would be enough to save him. That was all Bucky could hope for.

By the time they arrived at the Allied hospital several kilometers away from their ambush location, Steve's heart rate was bordering zero. His breathing was virtually undetectable and not even his eyes twitched beneath their lids. He was dying in Bucky's hands. 

Nurses were rushed to the back of the truck the moment they pulled up to the front doors, carefully transferring Steve onto a gurney and unloading him from the truck.

"GSW to the head," Bucky could hear the nurses say as he trailed behind Steve's unconscious body, "Heart rate is 30bpm and dropping."

When they reached the double doors leading to the OR, one of the nurses stepped away from the gurney and placed her hand on Bucky's chest, preventing him from going any farther. "Sir," she said softly, "We can't let you in there. This area is for medical personnel only."

Bucky looked at her with a furrowed brow. "I-I have to go in there! He's my friend!" He made a move to push by her, but one of the male nurses stepped in and held him back by the arm.

"Sir, we can't let you in the operating room," the male nurse replied sternly, "We're going to have to ask that you have a seat in the waiting room."

Bucky's eyes darted between the OR doors and the nurses holding him back. He needed to be in there. He needed to be by Steve's side, to make sure that he was going to come out of this alive. But he couldn't. He was going to be stuck in some godforsaken waiting room with nothing but his prayers and the endless fear that he was about to lose the most important person in his life.

***

It wasn't until several hours later that a nurse came into the waiting room to update Bucky on Steve's condition. The moment Bucky spotted the male nurse from earlier approaching him, he stood up.

"How is he?" Bucky immediately began questioning, "Is he alright?"

The nurse clenched his jaw slightly, trying to figure out how to best word what he needed to say. "He's alive," he replied, "The bullet was extracted and fortunately it hadn't hit any major part of the brain that would have caused immediate, irreparable damage to his memory or motor capability." Bucky sighed in relief. But the relaxation didn't last. "However," the nurse continued, "The trauma to his head has forced him into a coma."

Bucky's eyes went wide and his stomach dropped. "A.. A coma?" He bit his lip, emotions overflowing as he realized how serious the situation was. "For how long?"

The nurse shook his head. "We can't say for certain. It could be days. Could be weeks. Some patients who fall into a coma are never able to recover. There's simply just no way to tell." He gave Bucky a sympathetic look and reached out to firmly grasp his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "I'm sorry."

Bucky looked down at his boots, his eyes beginning to burn as the tears started to form. Steve was in a coma. Worse than that, there was a chance that he'd never wake up, a chance he'd never see that little punk from Brooklyn smile at him again. The man he swore he would stand beside 'til the end of the line could be wasting away in a hospital bed, never to walk or talk or even see again. And it was agony for him just to think about.

Bucky inhaled a deep, shaky breath and looked at the nurse. "Can I see him?"

"I'll take you to his room."

The nurse led him down a long corridor and into a small room at the end of the hall where he found Steve laying in bed with a bandage wrapped around his head and an IV tube protruding from his right arm. Aside from the constant beeping of one of the machines and Steve's slow, steady breath, the room was silent. Bucky wiped his eyes with the back of his arm and stepped inside, making his way over to the side of Steve's bed as the nurse closed the door.

"Steve?" Bucky murmured quietly, forcing a smile onto his face as he spoke, "It's me." There was no response whatsoever. "You scared the shit out of me, you punk. Getting shot in the head and making me drag your sorry ass to this grungy ol' hospital." He let out a hollow laugh as he looked down at his unconscious companion, eyes burning as more tears started slowly running down his cheek. "I know how much you hate hospitals," he continued in a wavering voice, "Hell, you'd probably hate this place more than the ones back home. At least there you could get some decent cafeteria food."

Bucky stood in silence for a moment, waiting for a response that simply wouldn't come. The only indication that Steve was actually alive was the low beep of the machine across from him and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the blankets. No words escaped his throat, no smile tugged at his lips. And those beautiful blue eyes didn't stare up at him with adoration like they did when they were kids.

Bucky's lips quivered as he stared down at Steve. This could be it. This could be the last memory he would have of Steve Rogers. A loud whimper escaped Bucky's mouth, his body unable to hold back the emotion any longer. He collapsed into the chair behind him, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say as the tears slowed, "Steve, I'm so sorry. This is my fault... I should have spotted the sniper. I should have been down there with you. I... I... I'm the one who should have been shot, not you." He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, placing his hand over his eyes as he whispered to himself, "It should have been me..."

***

Bucky didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep until he was startled awake by the door opening and one of the nurses walking in. He rubbed his eyes and groaned as he sat up straight to stretch his aching back.

"How's he doing?"

"His breathing and heart rates are still at the pace they were last night," the nurse replied with a small smile, "That's definitely a good sign."

Bucky nodded and looked over at Steve. Nothing about him had changed. Not a finger had twitched, no hair on his head out of place.

"Say," Bucky said after a moment of silence, "Do you know where I could get something to eat?"

The nurse finished taking notes on the clipboard and nodded. "There's a general store right next door to the hospital on the east side."

After thanking the nurse and washing his face off in the bathroom sink, Bucky went on a food run to the store, picking up some oatmeal, fruit, and water. It had been nearly 12 hours since he'd last eaten and the stress of the mission and its consequences had him feeling hungrier than ever. He took a bite of his apple as he entered Steve's room and was about to plop down in his seat when he spotted the radio in the corner. Intrigued, he dropped his bag of goods on the floor next to his chair and sauntered over to it.

"What do you think, Steve," he said, throwing a glance over at his unmoving companion, "Want to listen to some music?" He waited yet again for a response but was greeted by silence. "I'll take that as a yes."

He toyed with the knobs on the radio for a moment before finding a station that was playing some very familiar swing. He stood in front of the radio as he ate his apple, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music. It brought him back to a simpler time. Back before the war, before he got deployed. Back when he was a teenager enjoying the little things in life like the smell of baking bread or the sound of jazz leaking out of one of the many clubs along Brooklyn's streets. Bucky smiled, remembering a time he and Steve had been out walking one night and Bucky decided to take Steve dancing.

"Look," Bucky had said when Steve tried to get out of it, "How are you ever going to court a lady of you can't even dance?"

"Buck, I don't even like dancing."

"You will."

They had spent that entire night dancing, going from place to place to hear the different bands that were playing. Bucky could remember the look of pride and joy on Steve's face when he had mastered his footwork and was able to keep up with Bucky and the fellas around them. His eyes had gone so wide and the smile on his face shined brighter than the moon. Bucky remembered thinking in that moment that no painting, no skyline, no star in the sky would be as beautiful as Steve when he smiled

When the memory finished, Bucky went over and sat down in his chair just before the next song started to play. To his surprise, the next one was much slower. _Moonlight Serenade_ by Glen Miller. The song made Bucky's heart beat a little faster as another memory flashed through his mind. The first time he had heard the song, Steve had been over at his house one evening while his mother was out of town and the Barnes family had been more than happy to take care of him. They were all eating dinner together when the song came on. He remembered looking across the table at Steve who was pushing the peas on his plate around with his fork and wanting nothing more than to take him by the hand and slow dance with him. He wanted to see him smile, to see those blue eyes look up at him as if he were the most amazing person on the planet.

"I never did get to teach you how to slow dance," Bucky said as he toyed with his apple core, "I wish I could have. It would have been fun watching you struggle with it. You probably would've looked down at your feet the whole time, wondering how something so simple was so difficult." He laughed, looking over at Steve as he imagined it. "I'll have to admit, you were a terrible dancer. But I made you better." He smiled and looked down at his browning apple core. "Maybe when you wake up and the two of us are back home, I can finally show you."

Later that day, Bucky sat reading from a pile of magazines that the nurse had kindly donated to him for the evening. There was a variety of issues from Time to French fashion magazines and even a couple of pin-up mags. He casually flipped through one of the American issues, pausing when he came to a particularly interesting article.

"Can you believe this? New York City is cancelling all night baseball games until the war is over," he read with a shake of the head, "It's bad enough we gotta miss out on seeing the Yankees play on a Saturday night. Now no one gets to."

He sighed and continued reading, occasionally telling Steve about an interesting story or recounting a memory from their childhood that came to mind. It was almost comforting to talk to Steve, even if he didn't get a response. It kept him distracted, kept him from thinking about the fact that it was possible Steve may not ever speak to him again.

***

 Bucky spent the next three days remaining as positive as possible. He would listen to the radio for hours, telling Steve what kind of dance he would teach him. One song came on that reminded him of the time he had forced Steve onto the Coney Island coaster despite the endless pleas from the skinny blond. He could clearly remember watching with a smile as Steve shouted, clutching onto Bucky's arm for dear life as they flew over the big hill and plummeted to the Earth.

"I hate you," Steve had mumbled after he had finished barfing in the trash can at the ride's exit.

"Don't be such a wimp," Bucky replied as he rubbed his companions back, "That wasn't even that bad. Besides, now you can tell all those jerks that tease you that you conquered the Cyclone."

"Says the guy who spent the entire ride laughing."

"Yeah, well, it's hard to feel scared when you're busy watching the punk next to you try not to cry his eyes out," Bucky had teased before wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders and guiding him to the shooting gallery.

Bucky laughed freely and patted Steve's knee as he told him about the memory. They had done everything together when they were kids. They went to school together, played catch together, tutored each other when they were struggling with math or science. They learned how to fight together, how to heal together. They were inseparable. Hell they still were. It didn't matter if Steve was unconscious. Bucky wasn't leaving his side. Ever.

***

Bucky was awoken the fourth day by a loud beeping sound and a door slamming against the wall. Nurses and doctors were running into the room, panic in their eyes as they readied their equipment. 

"What's going on?" Bucky asked as he stumbled to his feet.

"Sir," one of the nurses said to him, "I need you to step out of the room."

He looked over at Steve, realizing what was happening. His heart rate was dropping. He wasn't breathing. Steve Rogers was dying.

"No..." He whispered as tears began welling up in his eyes. "Steve! STEVE!" He tried to push his way over to Steve's side only to be dragged out of the room by two of the medical assistants.

The last thing he could see before the door closed was a doctor desperately pressing against Steve's chest in an attempt to revive him.

***

Bucky felt hollow as he sat alone in the waiting room. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to do. If Steve died, he would not only lose his best friend, but the man he had loved since he was a teenager. The life he knew would be over and he would be lost. He would spend years hating himself for being unable to protect Steve. If Steve Rogers died, the blood would be on his hands.

"Sir?"

Bucky looked up to find Steve's doctor standing in front of him. He immediately stood, clenching his jaw as he ran different scenarios in a hopeless attempt to prepare himself for the news. "Is he..." Bucky stammered, "Is he alive?"

"Yes. We managed to restore his breathing to a normal rate. We'll be monitoring him closely for the next few hours in case there's a relapse."

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair as he held back the temptation to sob with relief. Steve had conquered death a second time. "Can I, uh..." He made a vague gesture, the lump in his throat keeping him from finishing his question. But the doctor understood what he wanted and told him he was welcome to return to Steve's room.

He stood in the doorway to his room, staring in silence at the motionless body of his lifelong companion. He looked peaceful but Bucky knew that somewhere deep in his mind Steve was desperately trying to crawl back to life. He was probably clawing away at his own head, hoping that if he battled hard enough he would break through to the world he knew.

Bucky couldn't take it any longer. He collapsed into his chair, reaching out to take Steve's hand as he began to sob. 

"Steve... I'm not leaving here without you. I don't care how bad they want me out of here, I'm not leaving. I need you, Steve. I need you to wake up. I can't lose you. I just can't." He squeezed Steve's hand firmly and held it to his mouth as he continued whimpering, "I need you... Steve. I-I love you. So please... Don't leave me. Don't you dare leave me."

Exhausted from the adrenaline and emotion, Bucky fell asleep by Steve's side, his head resting on the bed with Steve's hand still wrapped up in his own.

***

At first he thought he was dreaming. Gentle fingers were running through his hair, gliding over his scalp in a soothing motion that made the touch surreal. However, as he slowly came to, he quickly realized that he wasn't dreaming. There were really fingers in his hair which could mean only one thing...

He sat up abruptly and looked up at Steve to find the blond smiling over at him.

"Steve..."

"Hey, Buck," Steve replied, hand still running along the back of Bucky's neck.

Bucky let out a laugh of disbelief, tears of joy forming at the corners of his eyes. Steve was alive. He was alive and smiling at him just like he used to when they were kids. He couldn't believe it. Steve had defied all odds. He had survived a gunshot wound, been revived after pulmonary arrest, and even dragged himself out of a coma that could have lasted years. He was a living miracle.

Bucky shook his head, still in shock at the realization of Steve's recovery. "You died twice, you know that?" He murmured as a single tear rolled down his face.

Steve's smile faded the moment he saw the tears escaping Bucky's eyes. "It's okay," he whispered, bringing his hand over to wipe his companion's cheek, "I'm going to be fine."

"You better be," Bucky managed to say, sniffling loudly as he tried to stop his crying, "Or I'm going to send you back into a damn coma myself."

Steve's lips pulled into a brilliant smile and his blue eyes narrowed as he laughed. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

A blanket of silence fell over the room, both of them taking in the fact that Steve was going to be okay. Bucky laid his head back down on the bed like he had earlier and rubbed his thumb over the back of Steve's hand. Physically Steve had suffered a great deal of stress but Bucky was completely exhausted emotionally. He had been through so much and simply knowing Steve was alive and well was enough to let him relax again.

"Bucky?"

Bucky gazed up at him with droopy eyes. "Yeah?"

"Promise you'll take me for that slow dance when we get out of here?"

No matter how tired he was, Bucky couldn't stop the smile that pulled at his lips. Steve had heard every word he had spoken while he was under. He knew how much Bucky cared about him, knew that the man that had stayed by his side the past four days was someone who loved him more than could ever be expressed in words. And he was happy because of it.

"I promise," Bucky whispered, squeezing Steve's hand tightly before he closed his eyes. This time, however, he knew that Steve Rogers would be right there to smile at him when he woke.


End file.
